


with both eyes closed

by scepticallyopenminded



Series: 30 Day Lyrics Challenge - 2017 [21]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst for days, Consent Issues, First Kiss, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Magic, Mind Control, Nogitsune Trauma, Powerful Stiles Stilinski, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, having to do with mind control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepticallyopenminded/pseuds/scepticallyopenminded
Summary: He swallows, ignores it, and doesn’t tell anyone. He hugs himself close and cries, doesn’t tell anyone. He still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t tell anyone.He doesn’t have anything to hide, anymore.





	with both eyes closed

**Author's Note:**

> from Stabilo's Flawed Design:
> 
> "And ever since I figured out that I could control other people/I've had trouble sleeping with both eyes closed"
> 
> I made myself cry writing this fic so there's that.

The first time Stiles realizes it he’s eight years old.

He and his parents are in the car, driving back home one Christmas from his uncle’s house and someone cuts them off. Stiles’ dad has to slam on the breaks, and it’s only because of Stiles, he knows, that he doesn’t start cursing.

Even so, as recently elected sheriff and a police officer, he mutters the license plate number to Stiles’ mom, who writes it down. 

Stiles, for his part, just watches the event, seeing his dad angry and his mom obviously upset, and just wishes the driver would  _ stop _ .

In front of them, the car swerves - left, then right, into a tree off the side of the road and Stiles’ dad has to slam on his brakes again, for a different reason this time. There’s yelling, screeching of tires, and his dad is getting out of the vehicle, his mom too, going over to check on the driver and.

Stiles watches with eyes wide, because -  _ he  _ did that? 

He’s pretty sure he did. 

He’s old enough to know a little bit about lots of things, and he knows there’s no reason for that driver to have swerved like that. Except that  _ he  _ wished they did. This is no experiment, he thinks wildly, one coincidence isn’t conducive to solid evidence.

He swallows, ignores it, and doesn’t tell anyone.

*

He’s eleven, and his mom is really, really sick.

It’s gotten to the point she doesn’t remember him most days, even though he and his dad visit her every single day at the hospital. She’s angrier than he’s ever seen her, says things and is ornery and everyday, the visits get shorter and shorter.

He doesn’t mean to, but he overhears his dad talking to someone on the phone one night.

“I just,” his dad sighs, the bottle of Jack in front of him, glass full and he’s staring at it as he talks, “I know it’s awful to say, but I want it all over with. She’s not my Claudia anymore, she’s not Stiles’ mom. It gets worse every day, and sometimes I can’t...wait until she’s gone and we can live with the good memories we do have.”

Stiles sneaks back into his room, having heard enough, and his dad doesn’t need to know if he cries himself to sleep that night.

The next day’s visit, his mom doesn’t remember him at all. She’s throwing a fit before long, saying awful things to his dad and she’s mentions offhand when his dad reminds her that Stiles is her  _ child _ that she’s never wanted children, snotty little brats that they are.

The thought flashes through his mind because his dad is  _ hurting  _ and this isn’t his mom, anyway, some demon invading her body:  _ Just die already _ .

When his dad wakes him up early the next morning, tear tracks on his cheeks and eyes red, Stiles’ stomach drops and he  _ knows _ .

He’s thirteen when he learns she did it herself; overdosed on morphine just after three a.m. He’s known for two years anyway, but it confirms that  _ he  _ did it. Made her do it.

He hugs himself close and cries, doesn’t tell anyone.

*

“You were the one bitching about how nothing ever happens in this town,” Stiles says at sixteen, locking his car and shining the flashlight out onto the Preserve. Scott makes his way around to the front of the vehicle, but hesitates, and Stiles  _ knows  _ that face.

“Come  _ on _ ,” he urges, resisting the urge to roll his eyes:  _ Just come the fuck on dude _ , he thinks. Scott’s expression goes confused for one second before he shrugs, following Stiles, who grins. He doesn’t feel too bad then for using his powers, especially when it doesn’t stop Scott from complaining.

“What if the thing that did it to her is still out here?” he asks, and Stiles actually does roll his eyes this time. 

He only feels bad about it weeks later, when he realizes the only reason they were out on the Preserve that night, when Scott was bit, was because of  _ him _ . He’s changed the course of Scott’s life, with one little thought.

He still doesn’t say anything.

*

It’s when he’s possessed that things  _ really  _ come to a head; all of the sudden, the nogitsune  _ knows  _ all about the powers, how to use them, how to manipulate them.

It takes a while, but Stiles eventually realizes that he’s been blacking out, that there’s something else in control of his body and is making him do unimaginable things. He’s done some pretty messed up shit over the time since Scott got bit, but he’s never - this  _ thing  _ is making him kill people. Using him to  _ kill _ people and - 

Once he realizes it’s  _ there _ he’s thinking it. Of just slitting his throat, ending it, saving people and saving  _ himself  _ and saving people not only from the nogitsune but from  _ himself _ and it’s not the first time he’s thought about just killing himself to get it over with. 

But the  _ thing  _ inside him won’t let him, pulls him away every time he glances at a knife or a razor. 

He almost does it, with the katana. Almost shoves it through him and he’s not quite sure what stops him, in the end, but.

Stiles cries more often after that, barely sleeps, nightmares marring his nights.

He’s more careful with his mind, knows it’s been opened and can be again. Knows how much he can fuck up people’s lives with a passing thought. He doesn’t even use it anymore to get people to do things like move out of the way in the grocery store, too scared it could accelerate into something else, something more. 

He doesn’t tell anyone.

*

He’s twenty three and has been in love with Derek for some time. It’s not a secret, either; the entire pack knows, he knows, Derek fucking knows. And it’s obvious that Derek’s into him, too; they’re dancing around each other like some weird mating ritual, neither of them making the first move and Stiles - 

He can’t do it. He’s still so wary of how he uses his powers, only brings them out when absolutely necessary to defeat some supernatural creatures. Nobody knows it about him, even now, though he’s used it at least once on all of them; getting Jackson to pay for pizzas that one time, Erica to get him a soda when she’s already getting one for herself, Isaac to tell him what’s wrong when he cuddles up to Stiles in his bed and refuses to say anything. Little things.

He can’t do it to Derek. He doesn’t want this relationship to be built on Stiles accidentally  _ willing  _ Derek to do something, to tell him he loves him or to kiss him or worse. He wants a relationship with Derek to be completely, one hundred percent consensual, and he can’t guarantee that.

He knows Derek won’t either; with him being only twenty three, and Derek on the verge of thirty. Derek’s always been touchy about age gaps, and for a good reason Stiles knows, but it also means that he’s not going to make the first move.

It’s when they’re alone the thought passes through his head, just quickly:  _ Kiss me _ , toward Derek. Stiles tenses, realizing what he’s done and he’s not  _ going to _ . But Derek, who’s been focused on stirring a huge pot with a large batch of chili for the pack when they come over later, seems completely unaffected.

Stiles is confused; he’s never met  _ anyone _ who’s immune to him, and he knows it’s not a werewolf thing because the rest of the pack are susceptible enough.

This time, he tries with intent:  _ Kiss me _ .

Derek turns, but goes to his seasoning cupboard to grab some spices. Stiles is - he doesn’t know what to  _ do _ .

He tries once more, focusing as hard as he can.

_ Kiss. Me _ .

Derek adds some salt, some chili seasoning, and says something about maybe making some bread to go with it.

Stiles breaks down, sobbing at Derek’s island.

It’s only later, when Derek has finally gotten Stiles calmed down, that he asks.

“What’s wrong?”

And this - Stiles has kept it to himself for so long. So, so long. He breaks, whispers to Derek his dark and terrible secret and with every passing second, Derek’s arm around him grows tighter, pulling Stiles closer and Stiles doesn't have to be a werewolf to sense the sadness going through Derek. It turns to confusion, though, when he gets to the part when it  _ doesn’t work on him _ .

“It works on everyone?” Derek confirms, and when Stiles nods, “Except me?”

“Except you,” Stiles says, voice rough. He tries once more:  _ Kiss me _ .

Derek’s confused, but he doesn’t so much as lean forward. Stiles sighs in relief.

*

Later that night, when Derek does kiss him for the first time, Stiles is just thinking how beautiful Derek looks.

He doesn’t have anything to hide, anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know if I missed any pertinent tags!
> 
> find me at [asocialfoxpaw](http://asocialfoxpaw.tumblr.com)
> 
> don't post my stuff to goodreads or like sites thanks!
> 
> also I just want y'all to know that while previewing this fic I saw the "Hale/Stiles" part of the tags and thought it said Harry Styles and was very confused because in what world would I ever have tagged this fic as containing Harry Styles. I had to double check that I hadn't accidentally done that. So. That's weird?


End file.
